


Bright Eyes

by SassyLassy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyLassy/pseuds/SassyLassy
Summary: So as it turns out, Junkrat is in desperate need for some glasses so Roadhog all but drags him through the procedure to get his eyes checked out.A birthday gift for a good friend, Jake! I hope you enjoy, and happy birthday!





	Bright Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap_Chameleon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Chameleon/gifts).



It was the little things at first. 

Junkrat had always been a squinter, this was a fact. He'd be in the middle of talking excitedly about some new plan or another before he'd squint his eyes, even if he wasn't looking at anything particularly worth squinting at. 

Any time he was dealing with paperwork, a book, map, or lay out he'd sometimes press his nose right up against the paper, squinting his eyes even harder than normal. Sure he could still lay out the best known plans a mad man like himself could create, but the look of him hunched over his work desk, nose to the paper, yammering excitedly... it seemed excessive.

Roadhog had just long since assumed his boss, and partner, was just a clumsy idiot. Getting around on one good leg and one leg that was made far too long for his already lanky body, seemed to gift him with issues. But when he'd stumble just going up some stairs, risking a sprain of his only good ankle, or tumble down them to bruise his head for the fourth time that week... small alarm bells began to ring.

"Right so we blast our way through this point," Junkrat said as he was rubbing at his right eye excessively with his good hand whilst his robot hand tapped its finger repeatedly against the paper. "And we take out the guards, easy work for us, 'n then... then..."

He watched as Junkrat sat back a bit slowly, tilting his head from left, to right, and then rubbing both of his eyes at the same time. "Christ mate, dunno 'bout you but I been gettin' this awful headaches lately."

Roadhog frowned behind the mask, but honestly he may as well not be wearing it since Junkrat seemed to pick up on his current thought process with nary a blink. "Wot?" he asked, jerking his head back to look up at his bodyguard. "Wot's that look for?"

"You been getting them a lot." Roadhog pointed out bluntly. True Junkrat knocked himself around a lot, took a lot of damage from his own bombs sometimes, but he'd never suffered as recently as he had. "Gettin' clumsy."

"Excuse you pig man," Junkrat snapped, glaring at Roadhog's hair instead of his face. "I'd like ta see you gettin' round with one bum leg 'n arm and prance round like some frou frou ballet dancer!"

Roadhog moved so suddenly Junkrat jolted back and smacked himself against the door panel. While he was gripping and rubbing his no doubt bruised shoulder blade, Roadhog had grabbed some scrap paper and scrawled out a few words before standing right back up and pointed to Junkrat. "Stay there."

"Eh?" Junkrat asked as Roadhog walked away from him to stand a good few feet away.

"Read this out." Roadhog said, holding the paper upwards, facing Junkrat. 

"Wot's this bout?" the blond asked, confused.

"Read. It. Out. Loud." 

Junkrat frowned, jutted his bottom lip out, before focusing on the paper being held aloft by Roadhog. The letters would be clear as day for anyone else but for Junkrat, the letters seemed to be made of wiggly, squiggly lines, blurring together to make an amalgamation of letters. "...mate do you know how ta write?"

"Course I do. Can you read it, or not?" Roadhog asked, getting irritated.

"How am I supposed ta read scribbles?" Junkrat asked, gesturing to the paper. "Don't make no sense!"

Roadhog looked to the paper. The words 'I LOVE BOMBS' was written in big clear lettering. Yet Junkrat couldn't make it out. Lowering the paper, Roadhog sighed heavily. "I'm takin' you to get your eyes looked at."

"What?? My eyes are fine!"

"No. They're not." Roadhog spoke authoritatively, slamming his fist down onto the nearest surface and no doubt leaving an indent from where his fist made contact. "We're taking you to get your eyes checked and that's final."

Junkrat felt a little weak around the knees for a minute before standing to his full height, scowling powerfully, and wagged a finger at Roadhog. "If you think I'm gonna let some doctor anywhere near me you must be thick in the head, mate! I ain't goin, 'n YOU can't make me!"

"Can't I?" he asked, dangerously.

"You can't!"

"I can!"

"No, you can't!"

~*~

Not two days later, two Junkers from the middle of the wastelands of Australia were standing in an optometrists waiting room. The two had never looked so out of place in their entire lives as the whole place seemed to gleam and sparkle with how pristine and clean it was.

It now seemed anywhere the two Junkers walked, they left an indistinguishable stain, smear, or puddle in their wake. A puddle of what, you may ask? You don't want to know. 

The poor secretary was trembling, and stuttering her words. "B-but you d-d-don't ha-have an a-appointment..." 

Roadhog turned his head to stare at the only other patient sitting waiting to be seen. A short man with thick glasses. The large bodyguard moved across the room, intimidatingly standing over the short, balding man. "You got an appointment?" he asked.

"Yes?" the tiny man squeaked.

"Give it to him."

"Okay!"

"Now push off."

With that simple, short exchange the man was out the door in seconds. The poor receptionist trembled more still, quickly making note that Mr Robinson would not be attending his check up but a... a... Junk... Rat would be taking his place. Hopefully the doctor would understand. 

"Tellin' ya mate this is pointless. Don't like doctor types you know that." Junkrat ranted as he gazed down at shiny glossy magazine covers that were twenty years old. They beheld images of women with makeup and fancy hair, men shirtless, or an omnic which Junkrat had no interest in reading.

"Not a real doctor. Just an eye one." Roadhog grunted as he gazed out the window at the bustling city beneath, and surrounding them. He hated coming into cities like this, it brought on the memories of places and things from before the omnic war and he never particularly liked tripping down memory lane. 

"He gonna scoop me eyes out to check em out?" Junkrat asked and for once, Roadhog couldn't tell if Junkrat was joking or being one hundred percent serious. He stared at Junkrat in absolute stunned silence and was only lured out of his mild stun by the receptionist speaking up.

"T-the doctor will see you now..."

After literally lifting and carrying Junkrat through into the doctors room, Roadhog slammed his boss down onto a chair and pointed to him while looking at the poor doctor who was expecting another patient but now instead had two large, and dangerous, criminals standing in front of him. "His eyes are shit."

"Uh...?" the doctor asked.

"My eyes are fine! Pig face here figures I need em scooped out 'n checked out but lemme tell YOU somethin', buddy, no doctor's scoopin' my peepers out for any reason!"

Roadhog groaned. "They don't scoop out eyeballs."

"Yeah they do! Me Uncle Bazza went to the doc cuz his eye hurt 'n he came back without it!" Junkrat countered, looking more than a little hysterical. "I've already lost me arm 'n leg, I ain't gonna lose an eye too!"

"Junker Town docs aren’t like real ones." Roadhog frowned. "Junker Town docs best treatment is cutting stuff off or out. This bloke's just gonna look at them through a machine he ain't scooping them."

Junkrat paused and eyed the doctors general vicinity before he finally began to look around the room. There were charts and posters on the walls, but he couldn't make out what they were. There was a desk, the short doctor guy, large windows, and hanging from the ceiling was a machine he hadn't noticed. He didn't like the look of it, it looked like a torture device.

"He won't do anything." Roadhog said evenly, a heavy threat as well to the listening doctor. "Just look through the machine. Problem solved."

Once upon a time, when having an eye examination, you'd sit at a machine and the doctor would move some dials, as you which numbers you could see better than the others, and you'd go back and forth back and forth until the doctor was content. Nowadays all you had to do was look into one simple machine that looked like a VR head piece. One quick scan later and you knew just what was wrong with your eyes and what had to be done to fix it.

After being prompted Junkrat approached the machine and slammed his face into the head piece, squirming as the machine made a low humming noise. Soon as he was told he pulled away from it and put as much distance between himself and the machine as possible without leaving the room.

Roadhog watched the doctor reading a projected, holographic screen his expression turning to one of immediate concern. What proceeded was a very long winded, wordy explanation as to just what was wrong with Junkrat’s eyes. Turned out there was a lot wrong. Short sightedness, far sightedness, weak retinas, a little bit of a lazy eye on his right one... he’d never seen anyone with such messed up eyes who wasn’t already officially blind.

When Junkrat practically climbed up the nearest object, being Roadhog, at the very notion of an operation the doctor admitted the only other option would be all out glasses. The lenses could be processed that day, and of course he wouldn’t charge them given that Roadhog had his scrap gun aimed right at the man’s head. Done out of the goodness of his heart, he claimed. How charitable, agreed the bodyguard, and after another very brief waiting period Junkrat left the doctors, Hog in tow, with glasses in a black case gripped tightly in his good hand.

~*~

“I ain’t wearin’ them.” Junkrat announced as he laid back in the sidecar of the motorbike, readying his throwing arm to lob the glasses into the nearest bin. Or side of the road. Either or.

“You’re wearing them.” Roadhog replied sternly, climbing onto the bike. “You’re practically blind. You wanna be working with stuff that explodes with bad eyes?” he asked before continuing. “Unless you want to lose your other arm too.”

“Not Lefty!” he gasped, horrified at the prospect. 

“Yes Lefty.”

This idea seemed to unsettle Junkrat to a very high degree, gnawing and grinding his teeth together as he looked down at the glass case tightly grasped in his hand. He whined, fretted, fidgeted a little before groaning and cracked the case open and pulled out the glasses with ridiculously thick lenses and pulled them onto his face. His eyes were tightly shut at first, as if he expected them to be some hidden trap mechanism that would immediately scoop his eyes out the second they were on, so he hesitantly opened one eye, and then the other.

He didn’t realize trees had leaves.

Junkrat, eyes now bugging open, looked around him as if he’d never really seen the world before. Things were suddenly a lot more clear to him, crisp, as if his eyes had suddenly been upgraded to high definition mode after a lifetime of living with shoddy black and white settings. He immediately turned his attention to Roadhog and he gazed at him with a look of absolute awe, as if he was beholding some kind of God who had taken form before him.

He could see the patches on Roadhog’s vest now. The gleaming sheen of the spikes protruding from the half a tire he used as a pauldron to guard his shoulder. That stitching along the mask that held it in place. Even the slightest gleam of his eye, hidden behind thick black lenses. And his body, good heavens above how did Junkrat describe that body? His chest, though partly hidden, was hairy and warty as was his arms. Thick, muscular, bulging with a power and might very few would come up against. Junkrat practically felt weak at the knees and his face turned a dark shade of red before suddenly standing up in the sidecar, gripped Roadhog’s mask and pulled him in close, eyes still wide.

“Holy shit Roadhog. You’re beautiful.”

“Push off.” Roadhog grumbled, pushing his boss off of him. “And sit down. We’re going home.”

He didn’t like hanging around modernized areas for too long. Gave him an awful rash and a terrible desire to rip everything down around him and he knew Junkrat would only happily join in on the fun of it all. Giggling like the mad man he was, Junkrat sat back down eagerly in his sidecar as he began to scope that out, too. The little dents, burn marks, welded on pieces of metal, it was like he’d never really seen anything before in his entire life.

And when they were finally on the open road again, Junkrat was in his element. He could finally spot the distant kangaroos in the fields, the birds roosting on powerlines and trees, and when they got closer and closer to home the less he had to point out but that didn’t matter. Junkrat would still point out the long since abandoned shells of homes that scattered the landscape, saying they should scope them out for scrap and pieces of junk one day. Make a real field day out of it!

Roadhog was of course naturally quiet all throughout Junkrat’s yammerings. He listened, now and then, but a lot of the time Junkrat had that kind of voice that would drone into white noise and he could easily just block it out. But today, he really found himself incapable of doing that entirely. Junkrat had never sounded so excited by the prospect of just seeing things before and it was surprisingly endearing and the long time jaded nihilistic bodyguard almost felt warm in his chest about this whole thing.

“Holy!!” Junkrat gasped when Junker Town finally came into view upon the horizon as they drove through the valley of trees that had just barely managed to remain a living thing after the disastrous eruption of the omnium. Tell you what mate, Gum Trees weren’t the kind of trees to mess around. Even their two headed possums and three eyed kookaburras seemed livelier than normal and for once Junkrat could point them out among the trees excitedly to Hog just like he’d pointed out the kangaroos.

“Check out THIS place!” he gasped as he hopped out of the sidecar as Roadhog had driven up to his farm. “I ain’t noticed none of this before,” he bent down to finger some nice scratch marks on the metal sheeting that protected a wall. “Ya know mate, it really is the little things ain’t it?” Junkrat asked before hobbling quickly into his workshop. His writing indeed turned out to be horrible but who cared about that? He could now see his plans far more clearly, like they were in his head and he never felt prouder of them. “Aw mate,” he grabbed his cricket bat and twirled it in his left hand. “Should have a game! Might be able ta hit the ball this time!”

“We don’t have a ball remember.” Roadhog pointed out.

“What’s that then?” Junkrat pointed to the small rugby ball sitting innocently on the couch he’d sometimes crash in if he worked too late and hadn’t the energy to crawl his way inside.

“Rugby ball?”

“Can still hit that with a bat, c’mon!!” he grabbed the rugby ball and pushed it into Roadhog’s hands frantically. “C’mon c’mon!!”

His heart was hurting again. Had Junkrat ever properly played catch, or any kind of backyard game, in all his life? He had only been five years old when his whole world was destroyed because of those bloody omnics. The omnium had changed people all but overnight. Those who had really fought for their homes were gone, lost to death, disease, or madness. The ones left were the low lifes who wanted a world they could be cruel and pathetic without consequence, and that Queen had welcomed them with open arms while innocent kids like Jamison Fawkes suffered for it.

Despite the heaviness of his heart, Roadhog made his way outside to see Junkrat had slammed the remains of a few metal poles into the ground and had balanced a discarded flip flop atop of them. His wickets. Junkrat grinned, lifting his head to watch Roadhog exit his workshop and carry himself to stand a ways away from him. He all but drank in the sight of Hog walking; his heavy gait, listening to the clink of his chain as his hook hung from his side. And that belly of his, how it bounced slightly with every single step. Biting his bottom lip Junkrat forced himself to get ready, cricket bat at the ready.

“Ready?” Hog called.

“Yeah mate toss it!”

Roadhog pulled the rugby ball back and for a brief, thrilling second, he was ten years old all over again. He was on the school oval with his friends. The sky was clear and blue, the air filled with the sounds of distant magpies and kookaburras. He could smell the gum trees. And he could hear the shouting of his school mates all around him as it was recess, and that meant rugby. Or cricket. Or volleyball. Or basketball. Any kind of sport that got them moving after sitting all morning at their desks. He could hear their shouts and cries for him to throw the ball to them, as little Mako had one heck of a throwing arm. Even back then he had hit his growth spurt early; towering over his friends and classmates, how his father would boast he’d be in the Wallabies by the time he was twenty for sure.

He’s ripped from the memory as fast as it had appeared and Roadhog hurls the ball towards the skinny twenty something who was missing an arm and a leg. Junkrat was laughing excitedly, just like those kids had done, and he swung the bat and for the first time in his life he hit the ball. Course, rugby balls weren’t designed to be hit with bats. It almost seemed insulted, then confused, as it bounced around awkwardly after it had soared through the air for a brief second. 

They ended up spending a good hour doing this. Roadhog would throw the ball, Junkrat would hit it, and then run around his wicket like a little idiot as his bodyguard would trudge to fetch the ball from wherever it had landed. No running for Roadhog, not anymore, he wasn’t that spritely ten year old any more.

Now they sat on the veranda together, cooler between them, a beer in one another’s hands as they watched the sun begin to dip over the horizon. The clear blue sky began to slowly shift to an orange and purple glow, before even that purple began to mutate into the dark blackness of night. Once there would have been stars to point out. Roadhog almost wished there was, so he could point them out to Junkrat. But like a lot of the landscape, the stars too seemed to have vanished.

“So weird.” Junkrat muttered as he fingered the opening of his bottle. “It’s just... the little things, ya know? Bein’ able to see the bolts and screws, stitches, even nails are suddenly real interestin’ to me. But,” he pulled back to nudge at the glasses. “Ain’t exactly my style are they?” he asked.

Roadhog looked at him and, he had to admit, the thick black lenses did not suit Junkrat’s whole look at all. It clashed with his grungy, messy look. He hummed a bit, before tilting his head. “Could get you some goggles. Pop the lenses out. Put those ones in em so you can wear them and look good.” he offered before pausing a second, and adding. “Could put some tiny spikes on the goggles too.”

Junkrat grinned at that, “Aw mate that’d be bonza.”

“Hmm.”

They sat in silence again, watching the night sky, the slowly rising plume of smoke that was always leaking out of the stacks of Junker Town. Junkrat turned on the porch light, so the two weren’t sitting in complete darkness. Thankfully there weren’t any mosquitoes tonight, as he didn’t want to deal with bugs the size of his hand trying to suck his blood dry. Turning his head he looks to Roadhog who’d been comfortably quiet this entire time. He liked this kind of silence, the type that meant Hog was happy and not quietly stewing angrily over something that had happened. Or something he’d said.

“...mate?” Junkrat broke the silence at last.

“Mm.” 

“Can you take the mask off?”

Roadhog immediately stiffened at the question, the bottle in his hand almost shattering within his palm. Beyond that, he didn’t acknowledge the question.

“C’mon Hog,” Junkrat turned so he was facing him as he talked. “I wanna see your mug, mate. I ain’t seen it with these babies,” he gestured to the glasses. “And I-”

“You ain’t seen it ever.” Roadhog pointed out. 

“I know.” he said, “But wouldn’t that make me seein’ it now all the more special like?”

He got to his feet, dropping the empty bottle back into the cooler, and walked inside. Junkrat was saying something, pleading most like, or calling him a wanker for walking away like that but Roadhog walked to where he’d just propped the bike and began to walk it into the barn. He never liked leaving the chopper outside, it was safer inside after all. Naturally it was just busy work as Junkrat continued to make words that were melting into the white noise as Roadhog moved to check on the yellow chemical he had stewing in the machine by his bed.

Junkrat finally stopped making noise and it was only at that Roadhog turned his head, only to see in time Junkrat climbing his way up to the upper floor of the barn to where the television was. It was flicked on and the sound of corny Australian reality shows began to drone and fill the air. Ugh, Junkrat knew Roadhog hated those shows. Remaking a house, finding a partner from a harem of idiots, first date shows, all of them garbage and now he could hear some tradesman giving scores to couples who’d rebuilt houses. He couldn’t care less. But what he could, and did, care about was Junkrat.

Today had been, while a bit difficult at times, good. And now because the little idiot had asked for that one thing, Roadhog had a feeling that... maybe he’d ruined it. 

Sighing, he made his way up the stairs and silently sat himself down besides the younger man, eyes on the screen but not really watching it. He felt Junkrat all but immediately put his weight against him, as he always did, and he shut his eyes with a tired inward sigh. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the kid liked him more than he let on. Junkrat was many things but subtle was not one of them. Was it wrong to admit he liked him too? Sure, at first, he’d hated this little mouthy liars non stop motor mouth. But that motor mouth had given him a reason to wake up in the mornings.

They’d livened up Junker Town and pissed off the Queen enough that she’d thrown them out. Then what, Junkrat had taken him all around the world. Japan. England. America. Europe. The two had grown in scale and scope becoming two of the most wanted criminals from Australia and that wasn’t something he’d had achieved alone. Life had become thrilling.

Plus Junkrat was his type. Physically. He loved himself a skinny boy. 

Ugh.

“If I show you,” he started slowly, “will you stop this?”

“Hell yeah!” Junkrat replied brightly, sitting up straight, looking up at the other with stars in his eyes. 

Roadhog sighed again. Why was he doing this. Why was he letting this little idiot puppet him like this? Dancing right into his hands. He grumbled to himself, reaching his hands up to work against the straps that fastened the mask to his face. Unclasping them he allowed the mask to slowly begin to drop before reaching around to grab the front of it carefully, and pulled the rest of the mask off.

Junkrat had sit transfixed. Like a koala in the lights of an oncoming SUV. 

He watched as the black leather slowly lowered, exposing more and more skin he’d never seen before. Thick white eyebrows matched the white hair atop Roadhog’s head, and when his eyes with a piercing ice blue gaze caught his orange ones he all but felt the rock gods erupt into a ballad right in his ears which only got louder when the pierced, flat nose appeared and those fat, thick lips revealed themselves stuck in a grimace. The fat under his chin was expected, but those side burns weren’t, nor was the thick brown beauty spot his right cheek.

There were bags under his blue eyes, lines on his face depicting age, a few scars here and there, but all in all the face was everything Junkrat had been hoping for. He sat there, still, his eyes wide behind those glasses as he looked into the face of his bodyguard, his partner, looking at him as if he were the most handsome man to ever walk this diseased, dying earth. 

And to him, he really was.

“Oh mate,” Junkrat finally whispered after a few seconds of taking in the sight of this beautifully fat, scarred, tired face. “You’re handsome as all Hell.”

There was no mask to hide the definite blush on his face this time, and Roadhog coughed, eyes darting away angrily to glare at the television screen. “Shut up.” he muttered, feeling ten kinds of exposed and vulnerable. He hadn’t taken his mask off in front of anyone for a long, long time after all. Last person had been Bruce, to prove he was, or had been, Mako Rutledge. Otherwise the mechanic would never have believed it. This time, it wasn’t so much proving who he had been at all but it was something far more intimate and important. 

Then he felt both flesh and metal hands on his face and he watched, almost as if he was locked in place, as Junkrat drew himself closer to him. This was very close. Incredibly close. He could feel the warmth of Junkrat’s breath against his skin and he would deny forever that he felt a tingle of excitement bolt down his spine at that.

“Rat...” he said, the single word being a warning, plea, permission, and a declaration all at once.

Junkrat seemed to get the message as he leaned in, closed the space between them, and pushed his lips up against Roadhog’s. For a second he expected the bodyguard to grab him, to rip him from him and hurl him across the room like a rag doll. And when he felt Roadhog grab the back of his head that’s what he was more or less preparing himself for, gritting his entire existence to prepare for the punishment of a lifetime. What he got instead was Roadhog pulling him closer against him, the other large gloved hand cupping his rear to lift him only just, so he was now resting properly against the older man’s larger stomach as the kiss held far longer than he thought it would.

If they had neighbors, they would have just heard the drone of the television at first but it was soon mixed with the very vocal sounds of Junkrat as Roadhog’s wandering hands pressed and touched against spots nobody had really touched before. Not that he was complaining, of course not, but when the two finally broke off from one another to breathe Junkrat opened his eyes to discover his vision cloudy.

“What--” he started, “Roadie, what’s happened?? I can’t see I--”

“Your glasses fogged.” Roadhog replied, reaching a thumb up to smear it against the fogged up glass to give Junkrat some visibility again.

“Oh.” well now he felt silly.

Now the two sat in silence, Roadhog still propping Junkrat up against his stomach as they were both positioned on the couch put together with pieces of metal and nothing soft or comfortable at all. Junkrat coughed into his fist, glancing away, his face flushing red and from the looks of things the burning embers on his hair seemed brighter than usual. Roadhog stared at him in silence before squeezing his rear enough to get a response. “Oi!”

“Should we move?” he asked, curious. “Not exactly comfy here.”

“M-move? Move where?” 

Roadhog pointed and Junkrat turned his head to stare down at the large bed set up on the bottom floor in the corner. He stared at it a moment before looking to Roadhog. Now, they’d shared a bed before. It got awful cold in the desert at night time and the two had snuggled up on more than one occasion. So the idea of being in the same bed as Roadhog wasn’t exactly new, but it was the pretense that made this time exciting. He stammered and stuttered out something like a yes but he was trembling with premature excitement Roadhog had the notion if he just breathed on his neck he’d make a mess in his pants.

So he tested it.

And he was right.

“Not funny, mate.” Junkrat mumbled as he was laid down in the bed, fussing with his pants as they now felt a little... gross to be wearing. Even by his definition of what ‘gross’ was, this was beyond it.

“Sorry.” Roadhog chuckled as he got onto the bed. “It was too good to pass up.”

“Ha ha you made me make a mess with just ya breath congratulations.” Junkrat mocked, playfully, before reaching a hand up to trail it against the older man’s sideburns. “Now how ‘bout I try ta do the same for you?”

“Unlikely.” Roadhog said, flatly.

“Wot??”

“You’re a virgin. Never been touched. Never touched. Figure tonight was your first kiss too.”

Junkrat reddened deeply, twitching a bit. “A-am not.” he lied.

“Liar.”

“No I ain’t!”

“Liar.” Roadhog echoed again as he bent down, trailing his thick lips down Junkrat’s neck. “I pegged you as one the first night we met and it’s never changed.”

Junkrat grumbled but it was hard and all but impossible to remain mad at Roadhog when he was breathing against him like that. He trembled a bit, before wrapping his good arm around the thick of Roadhog’s neck to hold onto him and a weak attempt at stopping him. Not that he could stop Roadhog; the man was a powerhouse and if he went hog wild there’d be no way for Junkrat to stop him.

Roadhog, however, did stop. He’d been with inexperienced men before in the past. And he had been one himself, once upon a time. Today had been a lot for Junkrat, and as great as it would be to end on some physical explosion shared between the two of them he had a feeling this was all but more than Junkrat could manage. After all, he’d already made him climax with just a huff of his breath. 

“C’mon.” Roadhog pulled back, and sat himself up as he unhooked his mask from his belt and began to fit it back over his face. “Been a long day.”

“Mmh...” Junkrat didn’t want that mask back on but even he knew the importance of it. Poor Roadhog couldn’t sleep through the night without it, and he watched as the older man fastened the connector on the canister that hung suspended under the bed to one of his filters. Roadhog laid down on the bed, rolling onto his side, facing Rat this time. 

“Take your limbs off. Don’t want pain in the morning.” Roadhog reminded him as he did every night.

“Right, right.”

Both arm and leg clunk noisily as they hit the floor, and Junkrat settled himself against Roadhog, pausing to tug the glasses from his face. He sets them aside too, down by his leg and arm, before once more getting himself comfortable against his... bodyguard. Nothing more. Nothing less. Maybe? He didn’t know. He probably should ask but that would show naivety and he didn’t want to do that. Instead he pressed himself close as he dare, squeezing his eyes shut and smiled a bit.

“Should’ve gotten you glasses sooner.” Roadhog mumbles as Junkrat presses his face against his chest.

“Got em now though.” Junkrat pointed out, lifting a hand to trail his finger against one of Roadhog’s pecs. “Like I got you.”

Roadhog was quiet, as he normally was, before he wrapped an arm over Junkrat to hold him close and pin him against him in a manner similar to how he’d done up on the couch. “You always got me.”

He could feel Junkrat smile against his chest, and it gave him reason to smile as well.

“Idiot.” he says, affectionately.


End file.
